


Dead In A Week (or your money back)

by roe87



Series: Canon Shenanigans [7]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Amnesiac Bucky Barnes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassins & Hitmen, BAMF Bucky Barnes, Bottom Bucky Bingo, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America Steve Rogers, Dramatic Steve Rogers, Gay Bucky Barnes, Gay Steve Rogers, Happy Ending, Hitman Bucky Barnes, Humor, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Light Angst, M/M, Meet-Cute, Memory Loss, Minor Sharon Carter/Natasha Romanov, Morbid Humor, Movie AU, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Pining, Reunited and It Feels So Good, SHIELD, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Suicidal Thoughts, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, dramatic gays, meet ugly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23617828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87
Summary: After being thawed out and realising that his dramatic death hadn't lasted, Steve knows one thing:he is serious about ending it, and he needs professional help...So he hires a hitman to do the job for him.(Funny how that hitman turns out to be Bucky)~~~Or, sad and dramatic Steve reunites with a cool and stabby BuckyFor Bottom Bucky Bingo squares: meet ugly, enemies to lovers, and identity porn.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Canon Shenanigans [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1351015
Comments: 76
Kudos: 493
Collections: Hell Yeah Bottom Bucky





	1. First Contact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeyBoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyBoy/gifts).



> Movie au! Rated Mature for subject matter.
> 
> While the topic is serious, the tone and humor of the story is very wry and tongue in cheek.
> 
> (If the subject matter, assisted suicide, is at all a trigger for you, perhaps don't read. I've adjusted the movie's plot to fit my fic as I wanted, so it's quite different from the movie, i.e. a happy ending.)
> 
> And I mean, this should go without saying, but obviously I do not endorse any of the dangerous contents herein, this is purely a work of fiction, inspired by a movie which is also a work of fiction.
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> ~~

_[Forum on the dark side of the web for advice on assisted suicide.]_

_**Grant1918** : Hello? Does anyone know the most effective way to kill yourself? I feel like I've tried everything at this point._

_**W1ntrIsC0ming** : Sure, I know a thing or two. Are you sure that's what you want tho?_

_**Grant1918** : I mean it, I just can't seem to die. I have considered that I could even be immortal._

_**W1ntrIsC0ming** : LOL I highly doubt that, pal._

_**Grant1918:** I'm serious. I thought the last time would do it for sure, but I'm still here._

_**W1ntrIsC0ming** : If you're serious about ending it, you need professional help..._

_**Grant1918** : What's that supposed to mean?_

_**W1ntrIsC0ming** : I mean, outsource the job to me. I'm a professional hitman._

_**Grant1918** : …_

_**Grant1918** : Ok. Sign me up._

At seven PM, Steve entered the empty building site.

He slipped in through a crack in the fence and snuck across the sparsely lit grounds and over to the high rise. The building was gutted and open to its bare bones, tarp covering most of the floors. Just another old building being renovated in Brooklyn to make way for expensive apartments.

Steve didn't particularly like that.

He took the stairs up to the fourth floor as per his instructions. It was dark, but Steve could see well enough. When he reached the fourth floor he let himself in and looked around at the empty space. Moonlight shone in through the clear tarp shielding the building from the bitter Manhattan wind.

"Um, hello?" Steve called out, feeling kind of silly.

"Over here," a voice replied, making Steve whirl around.

There, a figure in the shadows, leaning casually against the wall. A couple of upturned crates were close by, would've provided the perfect cover if the figure needed it.

Smart, Steve thought, while he was out in the open and vulnerable. Still, given the reason he was here, Steve figured he shouldn't worry all too much.

"You picked a nice spot," Steve said wryly, approaching the figure.

"It's free real estate," the other man replied. He was still mostly in the shadow, but as Steve neared he could pick out a few details. The man was dressed entirely in black: combat fatigues and boots, a stylish leather jacket with buckles, and a utility pouch.

He also had long dark hair, which was something of a surprise to Steve; he was still getting used to seeing men with long hair, now he was in the future and all.

The man also had a black domino mask over his eyes, and a large rifle strapped to his back. Everything about this guy who were here lurking in the shadows screamed _danger_ , and surely any regular person would run away terrified.

Steve had never been a regular person, though. He stopped in front of the mystery man that he'd met online, and set his hands on his hips.

"So..." he started. "How does this work, exactly?"

"If you step into my office," the other man replied, gesturing at the crates. Steve realised they'd been arranged to resemble a table and two chairs: the larger crate between the two smaller ones.

This wasn't the craziest thing Steve had ever done, so he shrugged and took a seat. The man sat opposite him, and pulled out some papers and a ball point pen.

"Now," he said, clicking his pen. "Name?"

"Steve," Steve replied, as the other man began writing onto the paper.

He glanced up when Steve didn't elaborate, and Steve couldn't see his eyes behind the mask but he could tell this guy was giving him _A Look_.

"Just Steve?" he asked dryly.

Steve swallowed. "Steve Smith," he lied.

The man gave him another _Look_. "If you're using a fake name, it'll cost extra."

"Alright," Steve agreed.

"Steve Smith," the man muttered, writing it down. "Age?"

"Uh, twenty-seven," Steve said. "What's _your_ name?"

The man looked up at him again, everything about his look and posture giving off a vibe that said, _seriously?_

"I just like to put names to faces," Steve said. He wasn't intimidated, he was actually kind of curious.

The other man sighed. "Clark."

Clark Gable immediately sprung to Steve's mind, because he'd been Bucky's favorite actor, but Steve kept it to himself. This guy couldn't be much older than him (not counting Steve's real age) so he probably wouldn't know who actors like Clark Gable were.

"Clark." Steve forced a smile. "Thanks."

"Yeah, you're welcome," Clark muttered, and got back to his forms. He made a note of Steve's address next. Then came the question Steve had been dreading. "Reason for wanting to die?"

"Well," Steve started, sighing. "I mean... do you refuse the service for um, certain reasons?"

Clark shook his head minutely. "This is purely for insurance. I just need to put a reason down on the contract. It doesn't matter which reason."

"Oh. Well..." Steve felt his face and neck heat with a flush. He'd never talked about this, about wanting to die.

SHIELD had tried to set him up with a therapist since coming out of the ice a few weeks ago, but Steve wasn't used to talking about his feelings. Even sharing with Bucky had been hard, and Bucky was... Bucky _had_ been Steve's closest friend.

Now he wasn't here, and that was Steve's fault.

Clark cleared his throat softly. Steve needed to come up with an answer. "Well," he started, "it's just... it's hard, isn't it? This whole... living thing. I mean, I should've been dead like a hundred times over by now, and I'm not."

"So, depression?" Clark said, his voice not giving away any emotion behind it.

"I'm not depressed," Steve insisted, which probably wasn't true but either way, what did it matter? Being depressed or not didn't change his situation: he was a man out of time, everyone he knew was dead or so old they didn't know who he was, and Bucky was already gone.

Steve had just had enough, that was all. He drew in a deep breath, and tried to explain. "Sometimes it feels like... life goes on too long, you know?"

Clark was quiet a moment before he said, "Look, pal, the box for this is pretty small, so I'll just put incurable illness, okay?"

"Oh," Steve said, as Clark began writing again. "Yeah, okay." He shifted guiltily on his crate, waiting for Clark to finish writing.

"Alright," Clark said, turning over the form. "And how did you want to die?"

Steve blanched. "What, there's choices?"

"Yeah, there's a whole ass pamphlet." Clark produced a slim booklet and slid it across the makeshift table. "Take a look."

"Jeez," Steve said quietly, opening up the book. It was more like a crudely printed comic book than a pamphlet, showing a dozen different death examples. "No drowning," Steve said firmly. "Nothing to do with not being able to breathe, either."

"Alright," Clark said easily. "What about something fun? Turn to page four."

Steve flicked to the fourth page, looked at the cartoon of someone having been mowed down by a truck of some sort. A crowd was watching. "I, um, I don't know what this means?" Steve said.

"It's a hero's death," Clark explained. He reached across the table and pointed to the page. He wore a black glove over his left hand, but Steve thought for a second there he almost heard a whirring noise like something mechanical. "You save a child or whoever from being run down," Clark said, pointing at the drawing. "You get killed instead, a crowd of people cheer. The end."

Steve exhaled through his nose as he re-examined the drawing. Whoever had drawn this pamphlet needed to take an art class. "Uh, no, thanks," he said. He'd already done a hero's death and he wasn't in a hurry to repeat it. "I think... actually, I think just want something quick and simple?" He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Painless."

"Bullet to the head?" Clark suggested, turning the next page for Steve. "It is my speciality," he added, a hint of pride in his voice.

"Uh, sure," Steve said, glancing at the page then up at Clark. "That sounds acceptable."

"Alright." Clark quickly filled in the rest of the forms, then turned the paper around to Steve and offered him the pen. "Sign here. Dead in a week, or your money back."

Steve signed it. Clark gave him a small card with bank details written onto it, and advised him how to put the money into a holding account so that when Steve died, it would automatically be paid to Clark.

Seemed fair, Steve thought. He turned the card over in his hands. Funny, he thought idly, how Clark's scrawl looked an awful lot like Bucky's.

"Hey, pal," Clark said, "are you _sure_ you wanna do this?"

Steve looked up in panic. "What? Yes? Why?"

Clark tilted his head, looking at Steve. "Well, have you considered that maybe you just need more time to figure things out?"

"No." Steve frowned. "I've had more time than you think. I'm ready. I want to go, and nothing I've tried has done the job. So to speak."

"Yeah," Clark said. "I know you mentioned that on the forum. Tried it before, huh?"

Steve nodded. "I'm apparently tougher to kill than I thought."

"Well, don't worry about that." Clark chuckled darkly. "Never met a man I couldn't kill."

"Or my money back, right?" Steve quipped.

Clark nodded and made a finger gun at Steve. "That's right. As soon as this meeting's over."

"Are you gonna do it now?" Steve asked.

Clark snorted lightly, flashing white teeth as he smiled. "No, don't worry. I'll give you a few days so you can get your affairs in order. Then it's game on. You won't see me coming, promise."

Steve wasn't entirely sure about that, but he sure hoped so. "Alright," he agreed. "Well, thanks." He got up and extended his hand to shake.

Clark looked at him strangely for a second, then got up and took Steve's hand. "Get your shit in order," Clark advised. "You've only got a few days."

"I understand," Steve said.

Clark pocketed his contract and turned away, giving Steve a two finger salute before disappearing into the shadows.

Funny, Steve thought, that people still did those little things. Bucky had done that salute goodbye a hundred times.


	2. Attempt number 1

Steve did as he'd been instructed, and got his affairs in order.

Considering he'd been officially MIA and presumed dead for seventy years already, it didn't take all that long. He had no possessions, and anything of value was currently sitting safe in a museum or two. Steve had no living relatives that he knew of either, so after arranging the five thousand dollars into an account for Clark, Steve drew up a Will that left the rest of his assets to a local charity for the homeless.

The quicker he died, the quicker they could get some money, he figured.

Steve told Fury that he needed some time out, to stall him. Fury wanted him to join SHIELD, but Steve felt very meh about that. Telling Fury he was taking another couple weeks off would buy him enough time.

Steve tried to keep to his routine so as not to arouse suspicion. He knew SHIELD suits tailed him every now and then, and it annoyed the hell out of Steve, thinking of them reporting back to Fury.

Still. Not for much longer, he thought.

It'd been a whole forty-eight hours and counting since he'd taken out the contract on himself with Clark, and Steve was starting to feel antsy. He paced his apartment, restless, and eventually went for a walk to get groceries. Steve hadn't bought much because he'd expected to be... well, dead. But if he was still alive in the morning, he'd be out of milk and food, so he ended up at a little bodega a couple blocks away.

Steve wandered from aisle to aisle, browsing all the modern foods in their expensive packaging, and idly wondered how long it would take for his neighbors to discover he was dead. Would the milk go off? Steve chose a milk that said it was filtered, so it kept longer.

Maybe he wouldn't die at home, Steve wondered. He wished Clark would get on with it already.

Steve paid for his goods and left the bodega, strolling down the street among all the other pedestrians. He wore a ball cap but the world didn't know Captain America was alive yet. SHIELD had granted him a grace period keeping it under wraps so he wouldn't get swamped or overwhelmed.

The thing was, Steve was very overwhelmed. He just wanted to go home, but his home didn't exist anymore, the building having been torn down decades ago apparently.

And besides, Bucky wasn't there, so what was the point?

Steve kicked at the ground as he walked, glancing over to the side. He did a double take when he spotted none other than Clark standing in a narrow alleyway, leaning against a building corner. He had on big dark sunglasses, almost the same shape as his domino mask, and his wavy dark hair partially obscured his face.

It was definitely him though, holding a cup of some cold drink and slurping through a straw.

Steve stared, wondering if Clark was about to shoot him. But the longer Steve watched he realised that he wasn't even on Clark's radar: he seemed to be watching a building on the opposite side of the street.

Steve felt impatient, and a touch annoyed, so he went over there. "Hi," he said, approaching Clark.

The other man looked surprised to see him, half choking on his drink. He coughed a bit. "Steve," he said, moving to plant his feet in a defensive position. "What do you want?"

Steve raised his hands holding the grocery bags. "Ran out of food. Didn't know how much longer I had."

"Right," Clark said, seeming somewhat awkward. "Well, you're not on my list today, pal."

"Then why are you on my block?" Steve asked.

Clark snorted in amusement. "You're not the only sap in Brooklyn who wants to die. Now move it along, buddy, I'm working here."

"Oh," Steve said, feeling jealous. He wasn't top of the list? Seriously? "Well... how long does this normally take?"

"Steve, I promise you're next after this hit, okay?" Clark told him. "Now beat it, or you'll blow my cover."

"Some cover," Steve commented, looking at Clark's modern fashions. All tight and dark colors. "I spotted you."

Clark was beginning to look annoyed, and pointed his drink cup at Steve. "You must have a keen eye. Now scram, before I move you up the list."

Steve smiled, mostly because he enjoyed winding people up. "Alright," he said, buoyed as he went on his way.

He looked over his shoulder at Clark as he left, and Clark made a shooing motion with his hand. Steve's smile grew, and he was still smiling when he got to his building.

Steve was half expecting for Clark to climb into his window that night and shoot him at point blank range.

But he didn't come, even though Steve left the window open and waited patiently all night. No Clark.

He was disappointed to say the least. Perhaps scaling a building was too much hard work. In which case, Steve figured his hit would be carried out outside, with Clark loitering on the street somewhere.

So Steve got up at his usual time and dressed for a run. May as well tip the odds in his favor and take the long way round. Steve ran around Central Park twice before looping back around and stopping for a coffee at a refreshment cart out in the open.

He kept glancing around for Clark, but couldn't see him anywhere.

It was nearly eight AM, and Steve didn't have anything better to do. He jogged around Central again, slower this time, but when he didn't see Clark Steve felt defeated and decided to head home.

Steve started down the street that would take him home, dodging the few pedestrians along the way.

A shiny nickel on the ground caught his eye, and Steve stopped to pick it up. Just a habit he'd gotten from always being poor.

As he was straightening back up, Steve heard and felt the distinct _whip_ of a bullet flying past his head. Steve was instantly alert, and a shout from behind got his attention. Steve whirled round to see a businessman falling to the ground with blood blooming on his suit. The person next to him screamed.

Oh, shit, Steve thought, looking at the nickel in his hand then at the businessman. That should've been Steve's bullet, but he'd ducked down...

This was all his fault.

Steve rushed over to the fallen man, hearing another bullet fly through the air nearby but miss. "Let me help," Steve said, kneeling at the victim. He pulled off his hooded top and laid it onto the bleeding area. "Sir, you've been hit in the shoulder," Steve informed the victim as he applied pressure to the wound. "You're going to be okay. Can someone call a doctor?" Steve looked up, saw that a crowd had formed around them. "Uh... you should probably all step back," he advised them.

But he heard no more bullets.

Maybe Clark wouldn't risk shooting again if Steve wasn't in sight.

"Shit," Steve muttered. All his plans were falling apart. "Can someone else hold this? I gotta go..."

Nobody else wanted to take over, so Steve was stuck with the victim for a few minutes. Eventually someone came over saying they were a doctor, and Steve was able to slip away.

He jogged out into the open street, looking at the buildings surrounding him. Was Clark out there? Was he in the crosshairs of a rifle right now?

Steve hoped, and waited. No other shots came.

"Dammit," he hissed, rubbing a hand over his face. Did this mean Clark would try again? Steve wasn't sure. There was only a few more days until the week was up. Maybe Clark would give it another shot.

An ambulance arrived and they took the businessman away. The medics seemed confident he would live, so that was something. Steve felt bad for him.

And, what's more, he should've been dead by now, but here he was. Still alive.

On the rooftop of a skyscraper several blocks away, James hurriedly packed up his rifle, muttering under his breath in frustration.

"Fuck," he cursed. "Goddamn blond asshole."

He took his equipment and left the rooftop, pronto. He'd just have to try again another day.


	3. Attempt number 2

Annoyingly, SHIELD found out about the attempted hit and showed up at Steve's door bright and early the next day.

He'd been about to go on his morning run when the two agents arrived, disguised as couriers with a large package for him. Steve was annoyed about it but he supposed he had to let them in his apartment.

They brought in the package and unboxed it for him, producing all this tech that Steve didn't know what to do with.

The older guy, Coulson, was rattling off protocol about surveillance and how Steve needed to check in with them if he had any suspicions.

"Wait, what?" Steve said, feigning ignorance. "I'm fine. I just helped that guy out who'd been shot, that's all."

Coulson was very calm, professional. "We had the victim and other witnesses checked, but there's nothing to suggest that someone would hire a hit on them, which is why we believe the target was you, Captain."

"Me?" Steve admittedly wasn't the best actor, but he had a lifetime of experience when it came to bending the truth. "I doubt it. No one even knows I'm alive, right?"

"Well." Coulson tilted his head. "So we hope. But we want to cover all bases." He handed over a small black device.

"What's this?" Steve asked, reluctantly taking it.

"A personal cell phone," Coulson explained. "You can receive and send calls and texts on it."

Steve wanted to groan, but he schooled his features. He didn't want to make the agents suspicious. "Alright," he agreed. He figured he could just leave the device at home.

"We suggest you take that with you at all times," Coulson said, as if reading his mind. "We'll be able to track you on it too, in case you need our assistance."

Steve didn't want to be rude or anything, but he was getting pissed off. He wasn't a baby, and he didn't want SHIELD breathing down his neck either.

"Alright, thanks," he said, hoping they'd leave him alone now. "I gotta go on my run. Thanks for stopping by."

Coulson seemed to get the message, and indicated to the other agent that they leave. They thanked Steve for his time and left politely. Steve smiled through it all until he shut the door, then his smile dropped.

Godammit, he thought, glancing down at the handset device.

It was a small, handheld phone slash computer, he figured. Everyone seemed to have one now. Steve couldn't be bothered with this nonsense, but he wondered if he could contact Clark on this.

Would be a lot easier than using that grimy Internet cafe Steve had used to browse the web. When Clark had messaged him online, he'd given Steve a phone number along with the address of where to meet. Steve had it memorised, so he could enter it into this handset now.

Would SHIELD be listening in? Probably.

Steve pocketed the phone, along with a couple quarters, and went on his run as normal.

A few blocks away, he found a payphone and slotted in his quarters. Steve entered the number for Clark, but it went straight to mailbox.

That was annoying.

Steve hung up the receiver, staring at the payphone for a moment as he thought things through.

Well... surely Clark would try again? He wouldn't get paid otherwise.

Steve glanced up at the buildings either side of the street, with many windows perfect for a sniper to hide. Maybe Clark had him in his crosshairs right now. The thought of that was comforting for some strange reason. Maybe because it reminded Steve of Bucky watching over him on missions.

Steve was so caught up in his memories that it took him a minute to notice he was being watched: not by Clark, but a SHIELD agent in plain clothes not so subtly loitering nearby.

Steve sighed, and jogged on his way. If he ran fast enough, he knew he'd lose them.

Unfortunately for Steve, no attempts were made on his life that day.

Maybe the SHIELD agents had scared Clark off, Steve wondered. There was only four days and counting, so surely it would happen soon.

Steve was out jogging around the city again, cutting through his favorite small park with the thought that today was the day: something exciting was going to happen today, Steve felt it in his bones.

Then his handset shrilled with a ring, stopping him in his tracks.

Steve really needed to change that ringtone. He fumbled in his pocket for the phone, and accepted the call from a private number.

"Hello?" he said, hoping it was Clark.

"We have a situation," Fury's voice replied.

Steve deflated. "But I'm taking time out."

"If we don't contain this situation," Fury said flatly, "there won't be anywhere you can take a time out."

"Oh. It's serious?"

"Extra-terrestrially serious," Fury replied. "Get over to the SHIELD office _now_."

Then he hung up. Steve hummed to himself for a moment, weighing his options. UFOs? High chance of dying on mission? Maybe that would work in his favor.

Then again, if people really did need his help, it wouldn't be such a bad thing to save the world again.

He decided to call Clark one more time, to see if he'd postpone the hit until Steve had dealt with whatever this problem was. He entered in the number and held the phone to his ear.

This time it rang, and as it rang Steve also detected a quiet buzzing sound coming from nearby.

Steve listened to the sound, turning to look at some thick bushes on the grass. The bush moved, just slightly, and Steve heard a muttered curse.

He smiled slowly and walked over there. "Hello," he directed to the bush. "Sorry to interrupt, but something came up and I wondered if we could postpone."

The bush was silent for a moment, then it rustled and eventually Clark appeared dressed in green camo gear, with dark paint over his eyes. There was some twigs and leaves in his long hair too, which looked oddly endearing despite the big rifle Clark was holding.

"Postpone?" Clark said, giving Steve _A Look_.

"Yeah," Steve replied. "Something about..." He trailed off as a strange noise erupted from above. He and Clark both looked up as a wormhole opened in the sky, swirling with purple sparkly stuff.

"What the shit," Clark muttered, beating a hasty retreat before Steve could stop him.

"Hey, does this mean we can postpone?" Steve called, but Clark had gone.

Steve sighed. He supposed he should get into SHIELD then.

With any luck, the mission would be dangerous.


	4. Attempt number 3

Two days later, aliens dealt with and threat contained, Steve was back in his apartment, exhausted but still very much alive.

What a weird couple of days, he thought, as he stood in his shower for a very long time.

Not only had Steve worked with Fury and SHIELD, but he'd met some other oddball heroes like him too: Black Widow, Iron Man, Hulk, Thor, Hawkeye.

Loki, brother of Thor, but not exactly on their side.

Still, despite a very tense mission, theirs was a team that shouldn't have worked but against the odds they pulled it all together in the last minute.

Steve was actually proud of them, and himself. They'd saved the day. Although now he supposed the cat would be out of the bag about his being alive, if people hadn't guessed already. He was banking on aliens being the bigger news story so he could slip under the radar, but someone was bound to pick it up eventually.

Steve dragged himself out his shower and dried off. He put a towel around his waist and padded barefoot out of the bathroom to cool down.

He was in a weird mood, pacing around his lounge with thoughts buzzing through his head. Steve wasn't sure how he felt right now, aside from nervous and excited about finding a new team... but one thing was for sure: he was starting to have doubts about dying this week.

He picked up his phone and thought about calling Clark, wondering if he could postpone.

Surely alien invasion was a good enough reason to have a change of heart? 

Steve knew he was prone to low episodes, perhaps he'd been in one of those and hadn't realised.

Well, here goes nothing, he thought, entering in the number. Steve put the phone to his ear as the ringing began.

A faint buzz from his bedroom had Steve turning his head in that direction, his heart leaping to his throat.

_Clark was here?_

The buzzing cut off just as the ringing stopped, and Steve tossed the phone to the couch as he crept silently across the floor to his bedroom door.

He turned the handle, cautiously opening it. There was some scrabbling sounds from across the room, so Steve peered inside.

The light was off, but he made out the dark figure trying to scramble out his window.

"Uh, hi," Steve called out.

Clark paused, one leg already out the window.

"I was just calling you," Steve added, as Clark glanced over his shoulder at him with _A Look._

He was back in black tonight, Steve noted, with the domino mask on. It was a look Steve found he liked, especially on an attractive man.

Steve had eyes.

"Can we talk?" he asked, hopeful Clark wouldn't just shoot him outright.

Clark sighed audibly, then pulled his leg in from the window and stood to face Steve. His left arm was all metal and glinted in the gloom.

"What?" he asked, glancing at Steve before looking away again. "Gah. I was waiting for you to put some clothes on."

"All my clothes are in here," Steve pointed out. "Where were you gonna hide, the closet?"

Clark shrugged. "Close quarters seemed like the best option. You weren't kidding when you said you were a hard man to kill."

"Yeah... about that," Steve said. "Can we postpone a bit longer?"

"You wanna postpone?" Clark sounded incredulous. "Again?"

"Things have changed," Steve admitted. "I just wanted to... I don't know, do a few more things before I go?"

"You signed a contract, pal," Clark said firmly. "The money's non refundable."

"Keep the money," Steve told him with a shrug. "I don't care. I just... well, maybe I don't want to die any more?"

Clark shook his head, mouth breaking into a smile. For a moment, Steve really thought he was off the hook, but then Clark drew out a thick knife and Steve's eyes went wide.

"Hey, wait a minute," he tried, but Clark charged at him with the knife pointed out. Steve managed to block him with the bedroom door, and retreated back into the lounge where it was light.

Clark kicked the door out his way, coming at Steve with stab after stab. "Why. Won't. You. Die!" he grunted, as Steve dodged or blocked each blow and they both shuffled across the floor in a deadly dance.

The towel started slipping from his waist, so Steve decided to use it to his advantage: he yanked off the towel and pulled it taut in his hands, using it to deflect the next stab from Clark.

Clark was clearly distracted by Steve's nakedness, his gaze dropping below Steve's waist. Steve used that moment of distraction to whip the end of the towel into Clark's face, making him yell in surprise.

"Ow," Clark complained, hand to his cheek as he took a few steps back.

Steve was still in fighting stance, holding the towel taut again as he waited for Clark to make a move.

Clark flipped his knife over and looked ready to strike again, but then he half turned away, waving his free hand at Steve. "Can't you put some Goddamn pants on?"

"What's wrong?" Steve taunted, bouncing on his feet to make his dick bounce too. "Scared of seeing another man naked?"

Clark snorted a laugh, and there was something about the sound that seemed so familiar to Steve.

"No, dummy," Clark said. "I'm gay, I love naked men. That's the problem."

"Oh." Steve stopped bouncing around. He wasn't sure what to do with that information. The sexy assassin trying to kill him _liked men_. 

Well how about that.

Steve shrugged a shoulder. "I... like men, too."

"Oh, my God." Clark looked up at the ceiling in clear exasperation. "Is that why you took out the hit? You're depressed _and_ gay?"

"No," Steve argued, then shrugged again. "Maybe. I don't know."

Clark face-palmed. "Man, I wish you'd said. I don't wanna kill you now."

"Oh." Steve deflated a little. He'd kind of enjoyed the sparring. "Um, okay." He shook his towel out and tied it around his waist again. Then he set his hands on his hips and stood there awkwardly. "So, uh... what now?"

Clark tucked his knife away and cleared his throat, gesturing back toward Steve's bedroom. "Well, I'm here. You're here. We could always..."

Steve nodded immediately. "Yeah. I'm in."

It was the strangest thing, Steve thought, as he made out with a virtual stranger in the darkness of his bedroom, how much Clark reminded him of Bucky.

Everything about him from his build to the way he moved and smelled reminded him so much of Bucky, and then the way he kissed...

There had been this thing Bucky would do after Steve got the serum, where he'd hold onto Steve's shoulder as they kissed and cradle Steve's jaw in his other hand, tugging on him a little because Bucky loved being dipped like a dame in the movies.

It should've been obvious from the start, but it only hit Steve in that moment. He broke the kiss and reached up to gently remove the mask, finally seeing the eyes he'd wanted to see all along.

"Bucky," Steve breathed, near wilting with relief.

Blue-grey eyes blinked back at him, and the man who looked like Bucky asked, "Who the hell is Bucky?"


	5. Epilogue

"So, let me get this straight," Fury said slowly, gazing at the two of them across his desk. "You'll only join SHIELD if we also hire your amnesiac-assassin boyfriend too?"

Steve shot a grin to Fury before looking at Bucky sat next to him. "That's right."

"And you think," Fury went on, "that this is _really_ Sergeant James Barnes."

Bucky shrugged. "Apparently? Don't ask me, I don't remember anything." He had his hair tied up today, with his civilian hipster clothes so he'd look more hireable. (Steve's idea.)

"It's him," Steve said. "I'm sure."

"Well, we can run a DNA test," Fury said, "but maybe keep this between us for now."

"I'm down with that," Bucky said. "I'm used to being on the covert side of things."

Steve beamed happily, catching Bucky's eye as they shared a smile.

"Alright, then," Fury agreed. "So, press announcement for you," he said, pointing to Steve. "And you," he added, pointing to Bucky, "stay off radar until further notice."

Bucky answered with a quick salute. "Yessir."

"Thank you, Colonel," Steve said.

"Don't make me regret it," Fury said before dismissing them.

Steve caught Bucky smirking as they left Fury's office. "So what now?" Bucky asked. "The rest of the day off?"

"I guess so?" Steve replied, as they walked down the empty hallway side by side. "Did you want to work with a cover name, by the way?"

"James works," Bucky said. "I'd thought it sounded mostly like me, but I knew it wasn't quite me. You know?"

"Yeah." Steve grinned at him. "I know."

They approached the elevator, and Steve pressed the button. Bucky leaned in and said quietly, "I'm still keeping your money."

Steve chuckled. "I told you to keep it. Now SHIELD can pay you instead."

"Great," Bucky said. "I got bills to pay."

"And more hipster clothes to buy?" Steve teased.

The elevator doors opened and Bucky elbowed Steve in the ribs as they both hustled to get in first. Just like old times.

"I think someone needs to introduce _you_ to modern fashions," Bucky retorted, making a pointed glance at Steve's clothes.

Steve shrugged. "Okay, wiseguy. How long have you been working on your look?"

"I can only remember the last three or four years," Bucky said, then put his sunglasses on with a grin. "But I was born with style."

Steve smiled in reply. He wouldn't argue with that.

The elevator took them down, but before it reached the ground it stopped at floor three and a couple women wanted to get on.

"Oh," said the redhead as she stepped inside.

"Natasha," Steve greeted, as he and Bucky made room for them. "Hi."

"Hey," she replied, as the four of them crowded in. "This is Agent Thirteen," she gestured to the blonde. "Sharon."

"Hi," Sharon replied, smiling pleasantly at them.

"This is Steve," Nat introduced. "And...?"

"James," Bucky replied. "Hi."

"You guys headed out?" Nat asked.

"Actually, we're going shopping," Bucky supplied, before Steve could even open his mouth. "Gonna get this poor man some decent clothes."

Sharon bit her lip against a smile, but Natasha outright laughed. "Oh, fantastic!" she exclaimed. "Can we come? You need a woman's opinion."

"He has the gay opinion," Bucky told her.

Natasha raised her eyebrow at him with a smile. "But does he have the gay woman's opinion?"

Bucky looked at her over the rims of his glasses. "Touché. Alright, you can come."

Natasha beamed happily. "Yay."

Steve watched this exchange with interest as the elevator reached the ground floor.

As they were leaving the SHIELD offices together, Natasha and Bucky started side-eyeing each other curiously.

"Hey, are you...?" Nat started, just as Bucky said, "Weren't you in...?"

Steve and Sharon watched them as the two seemed to realise something at once. "I think," Nat said, sounding unsure, "we may have met in..."

"Russia?" Bucky finished. "Yeah, maybe?"

"Oh, boy," Steve said quietly. "Say, why don't we go get brunch first? I hear that's popular? We can talk."

"Great idea!" Sharon said. "I know a great place two blocks away." She took Nat's hand, and the two ladies smiled fondly at each other as they strolled off, leading the way.

Steve blinked after them, then looked to Bucky in question.

"It's okay," Bucky murmured just loud enough to hear. "I checked. It's legal now."

"Oh." Steve absorbed that, and felt a great weight lift from his shoulders. "That's... nice."

Here he was, alive in the future with Bucky, and it _wasn't_ illegal for him to be gay?

He looked at Bucky with renewed hope, and very subtly turned his hand over in invitation.

Bucky smiled, a little bashful as he reached out and took Steve's hand. It was his left hand, the metal one, mostly disguised with Bucky's long sleeved jacket and a fingerless glove, but Steve felt the cool brush of metal over his skin and it felt right.

Their hands slotted together and Steve squeezed Bucky's hand in affection.

Bucky squeezed back, and they walked hand in hand down the street. Steve felt happy in the moment, and very grateful to experience it.

**Author's Note:**

> (And they skipped gaily off into the sunset!)
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Don't try this at home!
> 
> Eat your greens!
> 
> Maybe watch the movie (it's on Netflix, same title). It's a British comedy and really funny. Watch out if you are a writer who is even the slightest bit depressed bc that movie will DRAG YOU! 
> 
> I am on [tumblr](http://jro616.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/jro616), come say hi!
> 
> Yes, Clark was because of Clark Gable, Bucky's fave actor.
> 
> Bucky being in the present, without HYDRA, is inspired by the comics (Captain America #11 of the WS collection) where after General Karpov dies, Winter Soldier and most of Department X's experiments are put into storage (Bucky in his cryo tank) in a warehouse and just left there until the next person finds them. So my AU is along the "what if Bucky woke up on his own, without any handlers or memories, and snuck away before anyone discovered him?" So he makes his way back to NYC, as he'd done before in the 70s while going rogue, and eventually some memories come back to him but not all at once. Then Steve appears too :D *sprinkles fairy dust* Happy Ending!


End file.
